


The Rules

by scarletjedi



Series: quiobi week 18 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: And he's a toppy dude, Bodyguard, Light BDSM, M/M, Public Sex, Qui-Gon Lives, the Clone Wars never happened AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: The bells chimed louder and Obi-Wan realized, too late, that this was the warning the Force had tried to give.“Teach me?” The Prince asked, earnest.Qui-Gon didn’t even hesitate. “We will do what we can to help, of course.”’And there it is,’Obi-Wan thought.





	The Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the QuiObiWeek 2018 day 2 prompt: bodyguard
> 
> Many thanks to kettish, who helped me plan this fic and was my first and most vocal cheerleader
> 
> And many thanks to thegreatsopranocat for the last minute beta!

The Telmari and the Rhün were close neighbors, and like many close neighbors, had a political history that oscillated between staunch allies and bitter rivals. Often, the conflict reverted upon the death of the leader of one or the other peoples, which could mean peace for decades or war and peace and war within the span of a few years. (There was one year, Obi-Wan knew from the mission report, where there was peace, war, peace, and then war all within a single galactic standard year, due to a combination of old age, assassination, and sheer ill luck.).

It was maddening, yet they always managed to obey proper protocols, and like clockwork, asked the Jedi for ambassadors and negotiators to help make the transition to peace on their own. (“Apparently, they can go to war just fine,” Obi-Wan had muttered, only to have Qui-Gon shush him gently with good humor. It wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault that they were in a meeting!)

“Sometimes,” Obi-Wan began, speaking to his reflection as he tidied his formal robes, “I think they just want the attention.” 

Behind him, just out of sight of the mirror, Qui-Gon laughed. “What do you mean? ‘Pay attention to me or we’ll declare war?’”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at his beloved. “Not like that,” he said. “They are dignified heads of state, not toddlers throwing a tantrum.” 

“I don’t know,” Qui-Gon mused. “I’ve met a few toddlers better behaved than some monarchs.” 

“Temple Younglings don’t count,” Obi-Wan protested. “They’re training to be _Jedi_ ” 

“I’ve met some Jedi capable of tantrums, too.” 

“Anakin doesn’t count either,” Obi-Wan shot back, and Qui-Gon sighed. He knew that Obi-Wan cared deeply for his lineage brother — and that Anakin idolized him in return. You wouldn’t know it to listen to them bicker, however. 

“What I meant is that some of these declarations of war and peace have an element of ritual to them, like they’re going through the motions. I checked the records — it’s like they declare hostilities without ever preparing for conflict.”

“You may be right,” Qui-Gon said, stepping up behind Obi-Wan. It never failed to amaze him just how well Qui-Gon cleaned up when he bothered, but here he was: dress robes pressed, long hair skillfully pulled back from his face, beard neatly trimmed. Obi-Wan leaned back into the embrace when Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his shoulders, ignoring an old echo of irritation: it wasn’t fair that Qui-Gon was _that_ much taller than him, even if Obi-Wan was know to enjoy that difference on occasion. “As long as hostility is prevented, there’s no harm.”

 

“True,” Obi-Wan said. “And it is a peace treaty this time. Those tend to be more fun.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t quite care for the way the Force hummed at his words, as if accepting a challenge.

* * *

By the third day of the summit, Obi-Wan was beginning to believe that they may get out of this one without any of the strange twists and turns that seemed to characterize their missions. Force knew, they were due a break. 

So it was that Obi-Wan was paying more attention than he should to the glass of delicately flavored sparkling wine that had been pressed into his hands, and was only half listening to King Gallon of Telmar announce the engagement of his son, Prince Lirion, to the young Emperor of the Rhün, Emperor Tig. It wasn’t the first time peace was sealed by a wedding, and in Obi-Wan’s research, it seemed to have a fifty-fifty success rate. 

“And to ensure a smooth transition, our Jedi will be escorting our Prince Lirion on his Vigil.” 

Obi-Wan had to quickly lower his glass to look stately and wise as the attention, and gentle applause, of the room turned to them. 

“Did you know about this?” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, leaning in close to Qui-Gon as the room began to look away once more. 

“It was suggested earlier, but seemed innocuous,” Qui-Gon answered. Then, suspicion dawning, “Why?” 

“Later.” 

By this point, Prince Lirion had taken his place next to his father on the dias. He was younger than Obi-Wan, perhaps seventeen or so, though it was possible he only appeared so young due to the wide-eyed look on his face. Obi-Wan got the impression that the Prince wasn’t much of a public figure, but he was certainly attractive enough, in the way that youth and good personal grooming was always attractive. 

Nonetheless, he seemed to have truly caught the eye of Emperor Tig, whose eyes kept straying to Lirion with intense interest, despite the throng of very attractive young women and men around him, all vying for his attention. He was himself a very handsome man with the face that wouldn’t be out of place on a holo-film star, perhaps twenty-five years old, and it was his ascension to the throne that had triggered the summit. He had a reputation as a fair and level-headed young man, and his reign was expected to be a long and prosperous one. 

One young beauty offered Emperor Tig a dainty pastry on a tray with a coquettish flutter of lashes, and Obi-Wan was gratified to see that his eyes never left Prince Lirion, ignoring the nibble. A quick look confirmed that Prince Lirion was looking back, and the sparks that flew between the two did a lot of calm fears of a coerced union. (Obi-Wan knew his husband. Qui-Gon would demand drastic action if it were to be revealed their ether party dreaded or feared this union, and would be a right bear about letting Obi-Wan attempt a more diplomatic solution first - not in the least because Obi-Wan supported his husband’s more direct approach). 

At last, the banquet began to wind down, and Obi-Wan found himself corner in a relatively private corner of the hall. Any other time, Obi-Wan might expect a more amorous greeting, but this time, Qui-Gon’s brow was furrowed, his mouth set. Time to talk. 

Obi-Wan sighed. 

“It’s an old custom,” Obi-Wan began without prompting. “One that has its roots in old modesty norms: the Vigil is less about preparing mentally for the marriage, and more about preventing amorous connections before the nuptials. People care less, now, except that it’s a royal wedding.” Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, sighing through his nose. “It’s also supposed to be a signal to any previous lovers that their trysts are over, but judging from the way those two are looking at each other, I doubt that would be a problem in this instance.” 

Qui-Gon snorted in amusement, leaning back a little. “So...we’re to prevent two men who are set on being married from...having sex before the wedding?” 

“Essentially,” Obi-Wan said with a small shrug.

Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkled. “I think that ship may have sailed.” 

“It’s symbolic,” Obi-Wan muttered as Qui-Gon continued: 

“Doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m not sure what’s got you so upset.” 

“It’s...invasive,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s nobody’s business what two consenting adults do, and one that isn’t going to make that much of a difference.” To be honest, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure of the full extent of why he was so off put by this concept, just that he was on a deep and visceral level. 

Qui-Gon was frowning again. “It’s not your place to judge,” Qui-Gon began, a touch of censure to his tone, and Obi-Wan’s temper frizzled. 

“I am aware,” Obi-Wan snapped. “My issues are my own, and will not interfere. You have my word.” 

Qui-Gon backed off again, raising his hand. “Peace, my love,” he said, and then reached out to pull Obi-Wan gently in for a hug. Obi-Wan resisted, just enough to make his point that he was letting this happen, before sinking into Qui-Gon’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon murmured into his hair. “I should not have questioned your judgement. Of course I knew, but I allowed my own misgivings to color my response.” 

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning into the touch. It was less dignified than a Jedi was supposed to comport themself in public, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “If it makes you feel any better, there is always a small fear that any dissenters to the union could be a physical threat: there’s no peace if there’s no wedding, and there’s no wedding if one of the grooms is dead.” 

Qui-Gon huffed a laugh and squeezed Obi-Wan a little tighter. “One could only hope,” he joked, wryly. 

They had, when they were first navigating their relationship, agreed that Qui-Gon’s habit of acting without consideration would stop if Obi-Wan’s internalizing of guilt over another’s problems also stopped. As a result, Qui-Gon had gotten good at apologizing and meaning, while Obi-Wan learned to let others take responsibility for their actions. 

It was a process, and they both occasionally slipped. Every time they moved past an incident, however, Obi-Wan couldn’t help a sense of pride in the strength of their commitment to each other. 

He pulled back, reluctant. “We should go meet the prince,” he said. “The Vigil will begin soon.”

* * *

There wasn’t much to change Obi-Wan’s opinion of the prince up close, except for perhaps his age. He was, in fact, older than he appeared at a distance, perhaps twenty or so, with an intelligence that was largely hidden behind the guileless look in his eyes. 

“Prince Lirion,” Qui-Gon greeted, bowing. Obi-Wan, silent by his side, followed suit. “We are honored to accompany you on your Vigil.” 

“Yes,” Prince Lirion said, a bit waspishly. 

Qui-Gon waited, but it was clear that the prince wasn’t inclined to say anything more.

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, who gave it a try. “It’s time for us to escort you to your Vigil chambers.” 

That certainly got the prince’s attention. “Right,” he said, a little too fast and too loud. “The Chambers. Yes. Uh...lead the way.” 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed, and turned. Qui-Gon strode off ahead, while Obi-Wan gestured for the Prince to follow. Despite the seemingly routine nature of the treaty, there really _had_ been incidents with dissenters before, and a Jedi escort was as practical as it was prestigious.

The VIgil chambers were just off the residential wing of the palace, on the path towards the rooms set aside for visiting dignitaries. They were luxurious, well defendable, and would serve as the honeymoon suite. Part of the Vigil was to prepare the room. 

The Prince strode into the center of the first room and stopped dead. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a look again. It was clear something was bothering the Prince, and if it was not resolved, they were in for a long night. 

“Is something the matter, Prince Lirion?” Qui-Gon asked, gently. The Prince, who had been gnawing at a fingernail, looked up at him, sharply. “You seem distressed.” 

“Distressed,” The Prince repeated, laughing a tad hysterically. “Distressed!” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, wouldn’t you be, if you were going to be married in the morning?” 

Obi-Wan frowned, glancing quickly at Qui-Gon. “Do you object to the wedding?” 

“What? No!” The Prince turned to him. “I’ve known Tig for ages; I love him! The wedding is _our_ idea.” 

Wedding day jitters. Unbelievable. Obi-Wan pressed his lips together to avoid a relieved smile. “I’m sure tomorrow will go off with no problems...” he began, trailing off when the Prince began wringing his hands. 

“Yes, yes, of course _tomorrow_ will go well; it’s tomorrow _night_ that worries me!” The Prince said in a rush. “You’ve seen how people flock to him - he’s had no shortage of bed partners in the past, but I...” The Prince hesitated again. “People...I prefer the company of my books to pretty much everyone, except Tig. As a result...” 

“You’ve never had a bed partner,” Obi-Wan gently finished for him. 

“Exactly,” the Prince said. “But today, I saw you both in your embrace. Everyone says the Jedi — but you _are_ lovers, yes?” 

Warning bells began to chime softly in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind, so it was Qui-Gon who said, matter of fact, “We are.” 

The bells chimed louder and Obi-Wan realized, too late, that this was the warning the Force had tried to give. 

“Teach me?” The Prince asked, earnest.

Qui-Gon didn’t even hesitate. “We will do what we can to help, of course.” 

_’And there it is,’_ Obi-Wan thought.

* * *

The prince pulled a cord near the door and soon after a trio of droid servants entered the room through a side panel. Each of them was carrying a tray piled high with food: not the dainty nibbles of the party, but an actual meal with enough food, and wine, for three or more. Once the trays were placed, the droids turned and left, never once speaking to the humans in the room. 

“Please,” Prince Lirion said, gesturing at the table. “The food at these events is always flavorful, but there is never enough. I know I am quite hungry.” 

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said, and that was how Obi-Wan found himself eating a meal with the prince who wanted him and Qui-Gon to teach him how to satisfy his husband on their wedding night. 

All right, it could be worse, but Obi-Wan thought this was definitely in the top percent of odd twists their missions had taken. 

Their meal was all but done when Qui-Gon wiped his mouth with his napkin, sipped his wine, and cleared his throat. “So, Prince Lirion. What is is, exactly that you wish to know?” 

“Lirion. I can’t talk about this with someone who insists on calling me ‘Prince,” Lirion said, and then downed most of his full glass of wine. “I want to know how to rock his world. I know I’m not his first, but I’ll be damned if I’m not his last.” 

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes, thinking, and Obi-Wan turned to face him more fully, wondering where he was going to go with this. 

“Very well,” Qui-Gon said, and stood, gesturing for Obi-Wan to remain seated as he stripped off his cloak and draped it over the back of the chair he had been sitting in. He crossed over behind Obi-Wan and stopped, bracing his hand on the back of Obi-Wan’s chair.

“The first lesson is this: Listen.” 

And with that, he gently ran the back of his fingers down Obi-Wan’s cheek and jaw, and Obi-Wan found himself tilting his head, leaning back slightly in his chair to give Qui-Gon greater access. 

Qui-Gon leaned in, Obi-Wan could feel him, solid and large behind him, bringing his mouth close to Obi-Wan’s ear. His breath, when he spoke, was warm as it puffed against that delicate shell: “Your partner will speak with his body, if not his words.” 

Obi-Wan gasped quietly as Qui-Gon spoke, eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting as that warm hand continued slowly down his throat to gently play with the closing fold on his high-colored undertunic. 

“See how he responds?” Qui-Gon asked, a question for the prince but a tease to Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon’s plan was clear to him, by now: his love wasn’t exactly subtle about it, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure just how far he was planning to take it. 

Obi-Wan had suspicions that it would depend on just how thorough the books in the Telmari Royal Palace were. It was a realization that probably should have worried him more than it did, but he had Qui-Gon’s hands on his skin, and worry was a pale, wispy thing. 

“Flushed skin, increased breathing, pupils blown — all are signs of arousal. Tell me Lirion, is he enjoying this?” Force fuck a duck, but Qui-Gon sounded like he was teaching a class in the temple, or like he had so many time teaching Obi-Wan some lesson or another. That voice was tied up too firmly in Obi-Wan’s adolescence for him to react with anything other than lust. 

“I don’t know,” Lirion said, a hesitancy in his voice the only clue to his own appreciation for the sight before him. “His eyes are closed.” 

Perhaps not so innocent, after all. 

Qui-Gon tisked. “Come now, Obi-Wan. Open your eyes. How will Lirion learn if he cannot see?” 

_Oh, you absolute fucker,_ Obi-Wan thought, but he forced his eyes open, meeting the startled eyes of Lirion, who swallowed and nodded. 

“Yes,” he said.

Qui-Gon slipped his fingers beneath Obi-Wan’s tunic, running along the edge of the fabric, and Obi-Wan had to fight to keep his eyes open. “Yes, what?” he asked, and Obi-Wan had to bite his lip. Toppy bastard. 

“Yes, he’s enjoying this,” Lirion said. 

“Good,” Qui-Gon said, and then rewarded them both by biting gently on Obi-Wan’s ear, making Obi-Wan moan aloud — soft, but clearly heard between them. 

“Second lesson,” Qui-Gon said. “Patience.” 

His hand second hand joined the first, the both of them creeping down Obi-Wan’s chest, leaving the skin beneath his tunics tingling in their wake. Obi-Wan shifted, arching into the touch. 

“Shh,” Qui-Gon whispered into his ear. “Lie still.” 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and forced himself to still even as Qui-Gon’s fingers continued their slow progress downward. 

“The urge, when another’s skin is still new to you, is to rush, to race to feel it all in full and chase completion,” Qui-Gon began as the tips of his fingers brushed against Obi-Wan’s belt. “And, while it can feel good, it doesn’t allow for a full bodied experience. Like tea, pleasure must steep to get a full depth of flavor and feeling.” 

Qui-Gon’s fingers danced over Obi-Wan’s belt, tapping at the clasp. Obi-Wan gripped more tightly at the arms of his chair: he knew this game. He could not touch until Qui-Gon have his permission, and if Obi-Wan was meant to be on display...

“But know, too, the limits of patience,” Qui-Gon said and undid Obi-Wan’s belt with a helpful curl of the Force. Obi-Wan shifted just enough to let Qui-Gon remove it fully before he tossed it carelessly to the side. It was a matter of moments, then, to peel open Obi-Wan’s tunics, laying his chest bare to the light and revealing the outline of hardening cock. “The building of pleasure doesn’t begin with the laying of hands on skin, but the moment the mind catches on such thoughts. To keep your lover thinking of your touch for hours with no release and then attempt to build amorous intention slowly once you may touch is to be deaf to their needs. Then, and only then, is it permissible to start with a fast touch.” 

“Must is always last hours?” Lirion asked, and Obi-Wan had the same question. 

“No,” Qui-Gon answered, running his nails up Obi-Wan’s sides, just enough pressure to bypass tickling and veer directly into electric current. He braced his palms on Obi-Wan’s pecks, the hollow of thumb are forefinger bracketing his nipples. “What matters is that their lust is quickened. When full aroused, many touches that would bring discomfort or pain, bring pleasure.” 

Simultaneously, Qui-Gon pinched Obi-Wan’s nippled between his fingers and Obi-Wan jerked in response as the pain/pleasure struck deep in his belly, biting back a groan. 

“Let him hear you, my love,” Qui-Gon said, and pinched again, harder this time, and Obi-Wan’s head fell back on a groan before he remembered to keep his head upright, his eyes open. 

“His eyes are nearly black,” Lirion observed. “Does he truly feel no pain?” 

“My love?” Qui-Gon prompted, and Obi-Wan had to lick dry lips and swallow before he found his voice. 

“There is some,” he admitted, not at all surprised how raspy his voice had become. “But it is minor, and makes the pleasure stronger. I like it, and Qui-Gon knows that.” 

Lirion looked at Qui-Gon, who answered even as he startled to roll the hard nubs of Obi-Wan’s nipples between his fingertips. “I asked,” he said. “And I listened to what Obi-Wan said, and what he did not say.” He pinched, hard, eliciting a grunt, before rolling once more. “I asked aloud, and he said he did not like pain, so I went about not wanting to hurt, but I noticed how his body responded when my touch grew rough. So, I asked again, and together we found Obi-Wan’s limits and the extent of his pleasure.” 

“How?” Lirion asked, breathless. 

“Trial and error,” Obi-Wan answered him, tone dry, and grinned when Qui-Gon flicked his nipple in punishment. 

“Cheeky,” Qui-Gon rumbled. “But correct. We tried thing and when they worked, we continued, and when didn’t, we stopped. Exploration can be key: we none of us know the whole of ourselves until we endeavor to learn.” 

Obi-Wan shifted subtly in his seat, feeling the rub of fabric against his untouched cock that was spreading a slow damp patch. If it wasn’t visible yet, it would be soon, and the very thought of it added a warm zing through his haze of good feeling. He had been riding the edge of arousal for long enough to enter that place where _everything_ felt good, and he leaned back into Qui-Gon, trusting him to know their limits. 

Qui-Gon hummed, lifting his hand to cup Obi-Wan’s neck, curling his fingers under his jaw, behind his ears. “How do you fare, love?” he asked, quietly. Obi-Wan smiled at him, beatific, and Qui-Gon chuckled. “You know how to end this?” Obi-Wan nodded, sending their stopword _red_ through their link. “Good boy.” 

Then, Qui-Gon looked up at the prince. “Lesson three,” he said. “Commit.” 

Lirion sat up straighter. “Commit?” he asked, and Qui-Gon nodded, his fingertips scraping patterns along Obi-Wan’s skin as he did. 

“Commit,” Qui-Gon confirmed. “That is not to say be inflexible, or continue past your partner’s wishes, but to be decisive, confident, and present in the moment. You will have to make decisions, and not be tentative. 

“Commit,” Lirion said, as if putting it to memory, and Obi-Wan had a sudden image of Lirion taking notes while Qui-Gon fucked Obi-Wan. His grin grew wider again as he felt his laughter bubble inside of him. 

“For example,” Qui-Gon said, “I have Obi-Wan here, aroused and yet still mostly clothed. What should I do next?” he asked. “The goal, here is to develop a clear path forward.” 

Lirion narrowed his eyes in thought. “How do I choose?” 

“Whim,” Qui-Gon said. “Or sometimes you have a goal, and there are steps to be taken.” 

Lirion considered that for a moment, and his eyes raked over Obi-Wan’s display. “Is it... boring to chose to lose clothing?” 

Qui-Gon hummed, amused. “Not at all,” Qui-Gon affirmed. “Though, part of patience can mean the delay of nudity, and sometimes desire calls for items of clothing to remain. There is something to be said for making your partner finish while still fully dressed — them, or you, or both.” 

Obi-Wan shivered, remembering the last time Qui-Gon had gotten like this. It had ended with Obi-Wan on all fours, completely bare, while Qui-Con thrust into him from behind, having only undone the fasteners of his pants. 

“Then that is what I chose. I want him naked,” Lirion said. 

“Good,” Qui-Gon praised, and helped Obi-Wan to stand. He felt a little lightheaded on his feet, his knees quivering for a moment, but Qui-Gon was able to help him walk a few paces from the table before helping him strip. First his tunics were slid as one from his shoulders, tossed to join the belt. Then, Qui-Gon knelt to help him remove his boots, which he stepped from one at a time. That, Obi-Wan noticed, got Lirion’s attention, and he sat forward, rapt, the minute Qui-Gon was on his knees. Interesting. 

Boots removed, Qui-Gon stood once more, stepping behind Obi-Wan and reaching around to undo the fastenings of his pants one at a time, each clasp revealing more skin to the open air. 

“You’re teasing,” Lirion said, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s smile 

“Patience,” Qui-Gon said, amused, but undid the final fastener and gently tugged to get the pants down over Obi-Wan’s swollen cock. Obi-Wan hissed as the fabric dragged, making his very sensitive cock spring upwards once more. He was leaking constantly, now, the head gleaming as precum dripped down his length. 

“My love, no underthings?” Qui-Gon murmured, surprised but approving. 

“Ruins the lines,” Obi-Wan all but groaned, and forced himself to focus on the present moment. He was standing in the middle of the room, cool air prickling at his overheated skin, fully aroused and fully naked, with Qui-Gon a solid strength at his back, and Lirion an attentive learner watching from a distance. 

“Kiss him,” Lirion said, and Qui-Gon’s hand cupped Obi-Wan’s chin, turning his head back over his shoulder to take his lips in a fierce kiss. Obi-Wan kissed back, aware of the way the angle displayed his jaw and neck, the muscled plane of his chest, the possessive hand on his hip, fingers pressing into his flesh scant inches from his still yet untouched cock. 

“Touch him.” 

Qui-Gon broke the kiss, letting Obi-Wan breathe, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as Qui-Gon spoke. 

“I am touching him,” Qui-Gon said. “Part of commitment is being specific. If you can do an act, you can speak of an act.” 

“Right,” Lirion said, determined. “Touch his cock. Stroke him.” 

Obi-Wan bit his lip, his face still turned away, as Qui-Gon finally, finally wrapped long, strong fingers around the base of him and stroked firmly upwards. His touch was soon slicked as Obi-Wan leaked more, but slow — too slow, and Obi-Wan leaned his head back, bearing his throat as he rested his weight on Qui-Gon. 

“Don’t stop,” Lirion said, “but don’t speed up. Pinch his nipple, too.” 

_The Prince was worried?_ Obi-Wan thought a bit frantically as Qui-Gon did just as he was asked, the added jolt of sensation catching him at his knees. Only Qui-Gon’s support kept him upright until he could find his footing despite the way pleasure surged through him as Qui-Gon rolled his nipple though pinched fingers continuously. Qui-Gon’s amusement drifted over their link, and Obi-Wan realized that he had sent that, accidentally. Whoops. 

“Will he finish?” Lirion asked, curiously, and Obi-Wan bloody well hoped so. Qui-Gon would have another thing coming if he got Obi-Wan all worked up and left him there. 

“He could,” Qui-Gon said. “He has before, from this, but it would take some time unless I were to quicken my strokes or add another touch, elsewhere.” 

Desire flooded Obi-Wan’s system, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he wanted more in that moment than for Qui-Gon to play with his hole. “Fuck,” he muttered on his breath, so quietly that only Qui-Gon could hear — and he did. 

“Lirion,” Qui-Gon said. “There is one final rule, though there are several...let’s call them ‘house rules’ that you and your partner will discover and decide on for yourselves. That rule is ‘be thorough.’ You need not do everything everytime, but what you do? You do to your utmost.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Lirion nod. 

“Do you know what I meant when I referred to ‘another touch’?” Qui-Gon asked, and Lirion nodded again. “Would you care to see?” 

Lirion nodded again, a bit more frantically, his eyes wide. 

“Then you shall,” Qui-Gon said, and removed his hand from Obi-Wan’s cock, making him bite back a moan of protest. That hand landed on his side, squeezing gently. _If you agree?_

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sent aloud, his sincerity sent through the Force. 

“Very good,” Qui-Gon murmurded. “To the chair, now.” 

Qui-Gon stepped away and Obi-Wan swayed before he staggered forward, gripping the arms of the chair tightly as he knelt on the seat, legs spread as wide as they could go — which, on this chair, was considerable. He rested his forehead on the seatback and waited. 

A hand, warm and broad and familiar, ran itself down Obi-Wan’s back, soothing and making him arch, lifting his hips further into the air. 

“There,” Qui-Gon said. “Just like that.” Then, “You may with to come around, so you may see what I’m doing.” 

Obi-Wan was glad he had his face hidden, because he had to squeeze his eyes shut at that, gripping the wood until it creaked when he heard the sound of the chair scraping back along the floor and footsteps rounding the table. 

Lirion’s breath caught, loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear, and then Qui-Gon brushed his thumb over Obi-Wan’s hole and he lost the ability to concentrate on anything but that dry, feather-light touch. 

“While not a rule, ingenuity is a good skill to refine,” Qui-Gon began. “Location, position, sensation, denial: these are all areas where a strong imagination can take you far. What matters is that all parties agree and that no one is wounded.” Obi-Wan heard the rustling of cloth and the snap of a belt-pouch faster. “To that end, while some play may be done dry, such as I am doing now,” he dragged his finger slowly across Obi-Wan’s hole to emphasise that point, and Obi-Wan had to grit his teeth to not move, “there is no such thing as too much lubricant.” 

Qui-Gon’s hand left, and Obi-Wan panted in his respite even as he pushed back, reflexively seeking contact. Instead, he heard the snap-top cap of their favorite brand of lubricant, and paused. Had Qui-Gon really been carrying their lube in his belt the entire time? 

A cold, wet finger was his answer, and he hissed at the temperature before it started to warm. Qui-Gon swiped the finger over his hole, pressing in occasionally but not quite yet sliding his finger in. 

“Here, again, is where you must be patient,” Qui-Gon said, and finally, his voice sounded rough. “Go too fast and you risk hurting your partner. Slow,” and he pushed in with his first finger, all the way to the knuckle, and Obi-Wan let out a breath, some tension in his shoulders finally relaxing. It hadn’t been long since the last time Qui-Gon had been inside of him, making the stretching necessary but easy. “And wet.” He pulled his finger out to add more lubricant, and then sunk back in, setting a slow and steady pace. 

“If you or your partner are not used to this, you will not be able to move as quickly as we will tonight,” Qui-Gon cautioned. “Obi-Wan, how many nights did it take us to move from a single finger to my cock?” 

“A full tenday,” Obi-Wan answered, breathless. “But you kept me filled.” 

“That’s right,” Qui-Gon said. “There are toys that can help, if you want them. Or, you may use your mouth first to both give pleasure and relax the muscle,” he said to Lirion. “The more important part is to listen to your partner. They’ll let you know when you’ve reached their limit.” 

More lube and a second finger. Obi-Wan began to rock back into Qui-Gon’s touch. 

“See how he opens? The muscle must relax. Sometimes, if I wish to prolong our lovemaking, I will bring Obi-Wan to finish once before I open him up. On those nights he opens very quickly as the muscles are already relaxed, and we can spend more time at play before he comes again.” A third finger. 

“The number of fingers you add will depend on what you with to do. If I was going to fuck him, as I am tonight, I would want to at least reach four fingers, as it is closest in size to my own cock.” A tease with a fourth finger before it vanished, and Obi-Wan whined. 

“My Obi-Wan is greedy, however, and doesn’t like to go above three fingers, as he prefers to finish his stretch with my cock,” Qui-Gon said, conversationally, and Obi-Wan moaned aloud. 

“He does seem to enjoy the idea,” Lirion siad. 

“Shall I indulge him?” Qui-Gon asked, teasing again with that fourth finger as the fingers inside of him curled against that spot inside him and make him see stars. 

_“Fuck!”_ he cried out, body straing, trembling, as he fought not to come. Mercifully, Qui-Gon eased back, pulling out until the tips of his fingers were caught just inside, and Obi-Wan tried not to squirm. 

“Yes,” Lirion said, and Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon fumble at the fasteners of his pants — but then, “Aren’t you going to be naked, too?” 

And Qui-Gon stopped. Obi-Wan panted, and waited. After a moment, Lirion said again. “I want you naked, too.” 

“Very well,” Qui-Gon said, his voice low, and he pulled back completely. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to lower his back as he waited, but he couldn’t help but watch, his face tucked agasint his arm, as Qui-Gon stripped off his belt and tunics. He bent to remove his boots and step from his pants before he stood tall, resplendent and erect in all his glory. 

Obi-Wan bit his lip. It wasn’t hubris, before. Qui-Gon was a large man, and he was certainly large all over. Now, his cock hard and flushed a deep, angry red, it looked even larger. 

Obi-Wan _needed_ that inside of him, and quickly. 

He watched as Qui-Gon spread lubricant on his cock, and then he turned his head back when Qui-Gon stepped up behind him. The head of his cock against Obi-Wan’s hole was hot and slick and so much larger than his fingers, but with steady pressure it slipped inside as if it was meant to fit, and Obi-Wan began to shiver. 

“He’s shaking,” Lirion said, a touch concerned, and Qui-Gon stopped his slow press — but Obi-Wan was _done_ and with an exalted cry, shoved himself backwards, filling himself as he buried Qui-Gon in him to the hilt. 

Qui-Gon cried out at that, a punched out sound even as his hands squeezed Obi-Wan’s hips in warning. Obi-Wan was beyond caring, tho, and he pulsed around Qui-Gon even as he tried and failed to writhe. 

“He’s _fine_ ” Qui-Gon growled, not quite angry, but Obi-Wan knew the next few minutes were going to be wild. He was proven right when Qui-Gon thrust forward, the blunt head of his cock grinding against that spot unerringly as he fucked Obi-Wan on his cock. 

Obi-Wan lifted his head from the chair back, his breath coming as a strangled “Ah” with every thrust. He could barely catch his breath and he was dizzy with it. Spiraling ever higher, he wasn’t going to last — it was too much. 

“Do you want to come?” Qui-Gon asked through gritted teeth, the pace unrelenting. Obi-Wan nodded, frantically. “Not yet,” he hissed, and Obi-Wan _keened_. 

“But he said yes,” Lirion said, confused, and Qui-Gon’s hand came off of his hip to rest at the base of Obi-Wan’s throat — not tight enough to cut off his air, but close enough to tease it. 

“If you wish,” Qui-Gon said, his lesson now fractured from exertion, “You can establish keywords to replace yes, no, stop, and others. Obi-Wan likes to beg, but doesn’t wish to be actually appeased so quickly. Isn’t that right, Obi-Wan?” 

“Please,” Obi-Wan panted, the only word that he could force from his mouth, his side of their link filled with joyous agreement. 

“Because what he really wants,” Qui-Gon continued, “is for me to make that decision for him.” The fingers pressed down on his collar bones. “What he wants... is to come...” The fingers trailed down his chest, scraping over an abused nipple, “When I say ... and only when I say...” his fingers curled gently around his cock, his thumb swiping heavily over the crown, _”Come” ___

Obi-Wan’s release tore through him and he screamed, his body bucking back deeper onto Qui-Gon’s cock before into his fist, twitching on the edge of overstimulated as his mind went white.

It was all he could do, in the aftermath, to cling to the back of the chair as Qui-Gon thrust to his own completion, burying himself in Obi-Wan, pressed chest to back as he whispered loving endearments into Obi-Wan’s hair. 

After a long, blissful moment pressed together, Qui-Gon pulled out and stood, pulling Obi-Wan with him onto shaky legs. He kept Obi-Wan curled in towards him, letting him hide his face in Qui-Gon’s neck. 

“One, more rule, after all,” Qui-Gon said, his arms wrapped securely around Obi-Wan. “Love him, Lirion. Be tender, and seek comfort in his arms, as you offer comfort in yours. Physical love can be intense, and to leave another cold is cruel.” He pressed a kiss into Obi-Wan’s hair. “I don’t think that’s a rule that will be hard to follow.” 

“Not at all,” Lirion agreed, and Obi-Wan peeked to see him. His face was still very red, but when he stood and bowed his head in thanks, he had all the bearing of royalty.

* * *

“You’re fidgeting,” Qui-Gon whispered to him the next day, and Obi-Wan forced himself still. They were at the wedding of Prince Lirion and Emperor Tig, standing witness at the side of the front dias, and therefore visible to most of the room. 

“Your fault,” Obi-Wan whispered back, ignoring Qui-Gon’s satisfied humm. It was easy enough for him to laugh, _Obi-Wan_ was the one who was still sore. Pleasantly, distractedly sore. 

Gods, but he couldn’t wait to do it again. 

“Tonight, if you stop. Fidgeting.” 

Well. There was incentive.

* * *

Emperor Tig and his new husband threw a great after party, filled with good food, better wine, and a lot of dancing. Obi-Wan didn’t notice when they disappeared from the festivities, focused, as he was, on his own husband, but he did notice the next morning when he woke to find a lovely fruit basket on their table with a note written in elegant calligraphy. 

_Thank you._


End file.
